Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Mongolia and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983 at the first Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Kurtis Blow to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Fear. All the underground hits.
All Cheater Slicks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultravox record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jeff Lynne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fatback Band,
Marcia Griffiths,
Reuben Wilson,
Scott Walker,
Ultimate Spinach,
Lebanon Hanover,
Japan,
Cluster,
Frankie Knuckles,
K-Klass,
Main Source,
John Coltrane,
Y Pants,
Mark Hollis,
Bobby Womack,
Monolake,
Dawn Penn,
Soft Cell,
The Walker Brothers,
Jimmy McGriff,
Boz Scaggs,
The Happenings,
Ornette Coleman,
Underground Resistance,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Radio Birdman,
Minny Pops,
Fugazi,
The Moody Blues,
Gong,
Zero Boys,
Aswad,
X-Ray Spex,
Sam Rivers,
Angry Samoans,
Marvin Gaye,
Depeche Mode,
Howard Jones,
Lindisfarne,
Livin' Joy,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Albert Ayler,
Minnie Riperton,
Blossom Toes,
Heaven 17,
The New Christs,
Aural Exciters,
Chris Corsano,
The Knickerbockers,
Scratch Acid,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
One Last Wish,
Infiniti,
Jacob Miller,
David Axelrod,
Fad Gadget,
ABC,
The Cosmic Jokers,
John Foxx,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Monks,
Minor Threat, Minor Threat, Minor Threat, Minor Threat.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.